


Thranduil, Oropher and the final days of Beleriand

by Calairiel_Malromiel



Series: House of Thranduil: Dribbles and Drabs [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bond-Mates, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calairiel_Malromiel/pseuds/Calairiel_Malromiel
Summary: This story is about Thranduil, Oropher, the destruction of Doriath, The War of Wrath and their decision to leave doomed Beleriand. It ends with them coming upon Greenwood the Great and their new home.This series contains one shot stand-alones in the House of Thranduil Universe and revolves around Thranduil and the peripheral characters in his life.These short stories will range from Thranduil's early life in Doriath all the way through to their final destination in Aman. Many of the stories will overlap and may not always be in chronological order.Be aware that unless you've read the House of Thranduil series you won't know most of the characters in these dribbles and drabs.





	Thranduil, Oropher and the final days of Beleriand

Lúthien and Beren were dead. Word had come to Thranduil and his adar by messenger as Thingol kept himself in solitude in his grief. He slowly emerged and began to engage again and his wife feared for him as his heart seemed turned towards the jewel that had caused the death of their only child.

 

At some point Thingol had fostered a child of the edain and a shadow fell upon Thranduil’s heart. There was nothing he could put his finger to, but felt that somehow their doom was upon them and the child, though innocent, would have a part in that cause. 

 

It seemed a few scant years later that word had come that the child, now a man, had perished and his father had come in his anger and grief and had thrown a great treasure, called the Nauglamír, at the feet of King Thingol as a mock-ransom for his lost son. The Queen, Melian, had broken through his cursed despair and he had left the necklace in his repentance. Now the thought had come into Thingol’s mind to join the accursed jewel to the cursed necklace. The shadow on Thranduil’s heart grew even heavier.

 

Thranduil convinced his adar to come with him to speak with their uncle to try and convince him to rid himself of these instruments of doom before it was too late. They found him in his study and Thingol was holding the Silmaril in his hand, staring into it with an intensity that was disturbing. 

 

Thranduil took one look at it and said, “Get rid of it! Please, Uncle! You must not keep that thing! It is cursed! Ill comes to all who touch it!” he said in agitation. Thingol looked at him like he had lost his senses. “Tis not cursed! What nonsense is this? Twas Blessed by the Belain, themselves.” Thingol said in exasperation, ready to dismiss his fanciful nephew. 

 

“For them, perhaps it is. But it has brought nothing but heartbreak to those here. It will bring ruin upon us all if you keep it. Please, Uncle.” Thranduil begged.

 

“I will think upon it, nephew.” Thingol said, to mollify his clearly disturbed nephew.

 

Oropher put an arm around his son and led him away from their uncle and steered him back to their lodgings. Once inside Thranduil turned to him and said, “Ada, he is already caught by it. That jewel will bring ruin upon us all. We must be prepared to leave when that happens.” 

 

“I’m sure everything will be fine, my son. You’ll see.” Oropher said, trying to soothe his son, but feeling disturbed himself. He knew his son had a more attuned sense about him and Oropher could not recall a time his son had ever been wrong when he'd make such proclamations. Still, he could not see how a gem could be accursed and put the matter from his mind.

 

That conversation would come back to haunt Oropher when his uncle was slain by the dwarves that had worked so diligently within the city for centuries. Perhaps Thranduil had been correct that the jewel cursed any who handled it. In the aftermath of this atrocity Melian had left Arda and had gone back to Aman to await the re-embodiment of her husband. She would wait a very long time. But with her now gone, so too was her Girdle of protection and Menegroth was now exposed to her enemies.

 

The dwarves had taken the Nauglamír, that now contained the Silmaril and had escaped the city. The army of Doriath had followed the fleeing dwarves with the re-embodied Beren, himself, participating in that battle that routed the dwarves, killing all, save one. 

 

Beren had recovered the gem and had taken it to the place where he and the re-embodied Lúthien had gone to live in solitude on Tol Galen, an island in the River Adurant in Ossiriand.

 

The lone surviving dwarf had returned to his kin and had told them a false tale of the treachery of the elves of Doriath and in vengeance the dwarves had fallen upon the city, looting, slaying and destroying all they found fair. Thranduil, Oropher, Galion and Merilwen had survived that massacre, though the parents of both Galion and Merilwen had been slain, along with the innocence of the three friends.

 

A few short years of the sun later the necklace with the gem had been brought to King Dior Eluchil, the only child of Beren and Lúthien, as proof his parents had passed from the circles of the world. Thranduil had felt that passing in a way he had not felt his cousin’s first death and knew she was lost to them forever.

 

In those years Oropher had come to believe his son with regards to that gem and knew their doom had come upon them with the return of that gem to their city. He gathered those who were like minded and left the city of his birth and led them south to the mouth of Sirion where there had been built the Havens by Círdan. 

 

It soon swelled as survivors and refugees of Doriath came to that place as news was received that the Sons of Fëanor had brought death and ruin upon the city. Dior, his wife and their two young sons were gone, as were thousands of others who had resided there. Thranduil, Oropher and those who had followed them were heartbroken.

 

After several years, Oropher began to notice that his son ailed. It was as though he was fading, though he had taken no hurt. Oropher came to the conclusion that there was something about the city’s location itself, being as it were on the coast of the sea and there was no forestland there, that was leeching the life from his son and he determined that they should leave that place. He did not ask those who had followed him, but they chose to accompany him, regardless, though he knew not whence they would go, for it seemed that the land was overcome by evil. 

 

It came to pass that they were out in the wilderness of Taur-im-Duinath, for Oropher had determined that what his son needed most was to be in the embrace of the forest that he always seemed so attuned to. And it was while they were there that word came that the Sons of Fëanor had once again fallen upon their people to slaughter them over that accursed gem once again. And word was that they had stolen the sons of Elwing, great granddaughter of Elu Thingol, to ransom for the Silmaril. Elwing, believing her sons slain, had cast herself into the sea in despair. 

 

It mattered not to them that Sirion had the refugees of Nargothrond and Gondolin as well as Doriath. It seemed in that time that these Fëanorians were carrying out the malice of Morgoth, himself, as all their people were now pushed up against the Great Sea, Belegaer, and they had no escape. For years the Eldar had been fighting the Long Defeat and now it seemed their end on Arda was nigh.

 

And then they came! The Great Host out of Aman led by the Belain and the Eldar that yet lived in those lands. Then the War of Wrath began. The final battle. And Morgoth fought back fiercely and did release the most fell beasts imaginable. These were the things out of nightmares. Dragons, serpents and fire drakes of every size and shape, balrogs, wargs, yrch and many more fell beasts did roam upon the land despoiling it and killing anything that came within reach or crossed their path.

 

Those surviving Doriathrim grieved for their lost royal family who seemed to have all perished. Then all looked to Oropher, much to his consternation, as the lone surviving member of that family, as their leader. Though he had no wish to lead, Oropher felt the responsibility for the care of their people. 

 

Oropher and his people had formed an encampment for the protection of the ellyth and elflings that were with them. The ellyn would go out on patrols and slay the fell beasts and yrch that invaded that place and so they did what they could to keep the remnants of their people safe. 

 

One evening, after a particularly bloody skirmish the ellyn had returned exhausted and had all but fallen upon their cots. Thranduil had been one of those in this battle and had sought his cot for rest, but found he could not sleep. He got up to take a short walk, mindful of his father’s edict that he was not to wander away from their camp. He was just about to jump into the arms of a tree when he noticed it wasn’t a tree at all and it was looking at him with an amused glance. Thranduil immediately bowed and begged pardon. 

 

“Hmmm! No harm done, elfling. What brings you out into these woods, hmmm?” the Onodrim asked.

 

“I sickened in the city by the sea and my adar brought me out here to heal. Now we’ve had word our home is gone so now we are deciding what we shall do.” Thranduil said, completely enchanted. “What are you called?”

 

“Hmm, I am called Fangorn and this is my bond-mate Finbrethel, hmm.” Treebeard said, and that’s when Thranduil noticed the Onodrim was not alone and there was another next to him that appeared fair and she bowed. Then Treebeard said, “Hmmm, You should take yourselves East. That is where our folk are heading, hmm.”

 

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Fangorn and Finbrethel. I am Thranduil, son of Oropher.” Thranduil said, bowing, “Why are you heading East? Is it the evil you are fleeing?” Thranduil asked.

 

“Hmmmm, Yes and No, elfling.” the Onodrim said,  “Woe is coming to this land and not just in the form of the fallen Belain. Hmmm, We’ve seen that this land will be destroyed. Hmmmm, Completely. We’ve seen it taken beneath the waves. Hmmm, You all need to flee. Hmmm, Follow us East, elfling. I would see you survive. Hmmmm, Go back to your sire, elfling. I hope we meet again, hmmmm.” 

 

Treebeard then bowed and he and the rest, who had blended into the surrounding trees, detached themselves and strode away with great strides. Thranduil was almost giddy with excitement that he had spoken with one of the Onodrim! But then he sobered as he made his way back to his adar’s camp because of the information the ent had given him.  _ All of Beleriand was to be destroyed? Sunken beneath the waves? Eru!  _

 

The next morning Oropher seemed to awaken with a new purpose as he’d come to a decision while he’d walked the dream-path of their kind. When Oropher shared with his son that they were leaving Thranduil immediately said they should make their way east. He was so insistent on this course that Oropher decided to heed him as discounting him had always proved disastrous. 

 

So it was that Oropher’s host began their trek to the east and it took many a year for them to traverse the land. They crossed the River Gelion and followed the River Adurant to the south of the Ered Luin and continued East into Eriador. After the battles they'd fought, the war-ravaged land, and destruction they had all witnessed they were relieved to be past the Blue Mountains and continued on east, now looking for a place to settle. 

 

Their travel was leisurely and while they tarried in no particular place for very long, it was still many years before they reached the Misty Mountains. They had cleared the Mountain passes and had just crossed the River Anduin when a giant shudder rippled through the land. The river buckled within it banks and even ran backwards for a time, flooding the plain. The Misty Mountains shivered and several of their peaks shot up into the sky, their teeth even more jagged than they had been before, while others broke under the strain and toppled over. 

 

Unseen by the host as they were far to the south, one huge rock projectile seemed to be launched, perhaps from an ignited gas pocket within the mountain, from one of the peaks and traveled an impossibly long distance to crash right in the midst of the Anduin. It would forever be called the Carrock, though the elves would call it the Beleg Sarn.

 

The host, that had been knocked from their feet with the ground quakes, were busily trying to gain their feet and calm the horses that were in a panic. 

 

“Eru Bless Us!” Oropher breathed, “It was only by His Will we were not upon the pass when the land quaked. We would have all perished for certain!” 

 

“It’s gone, Ada.” Thranduil said mournfully, “Beleriand is gone, forever.” And then he pointed towards the green smudge in the distance. “There, ada! We need to go there!” and there was excitement in his voice.

When they reached the forest, Thranduil looked upon it and smiled at his father, saying, “This is it, Ada! This is our new home. Now and forever! I feel it and they like us!” And he laughed lightheartedly, giving his father a great hug. 

“Who likes us, my son?” Asked, Oropher, confused by his son's statement, but impressed as always with the way his son was able to bounce back from adversity and allow his sunny nature to shine through.

“Why the trees, of course, Ada!” Thranduil laughed joyously.


End file.
